


Pylades Drunk, to Orestes Fasting

by almostbecamehistoric (capgal)



Series: Orestes Fasting and Pylades Drunk [5]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Gen, Poetry, sestina to be exact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 13:00:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capgal/pseuds/almostbecamehistoric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sestina on the E/R relationship, from Grantaire's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pylades Drunk, to Orestes Fasting

There’s a crowd in the square, chanting and yelling, but my   
eyes are transfixed on a figure in a red  
vest; beautiful, terrible, you’re the only one   
that matters, with white hands  
that slice the air with the rise and fall  
of your voice. You shine with your own light

But it’s infectious, that spark in your eyes that lights  
The fire of your beloved Revolution. Even my  
Drink-clouded mind waits breathlessly for the sign to fall  
From your lips in a blazing red  
maelstrom of fiery passion. But we all know where this is going, even though you hand  
Us a silver platter full of pretty lies. I’d rather have my  
Bottle, thanks; I find it’s the one

Thing that never lies. But you, you truly believe it, don’t you? That one  
Day the Republic will come, the light  
Of tomorrow will shine. So raise your voice, your hand,  
Your heart; offer it up as sacrifice to your beloved Patria, and take mine  
With you—let me stay here. I can see you straining, reaching for the red  
Sun of a new dawn—but don’t you know? If you soar too high, someday you fall.

And when you fall, we’ll fall  
With you; but we’ve got one  
More night left here. So raise red-  
rimmed eyes and pass the bottle around; watch the sun’s dying light  
Wash over the barricade; share my bottle, sing my  
song. We’ve learned the hard way that Liberty has a heavy hand,

Only a shade lighter than Oppression. And as pale hands  
Wrap around cold carbines, as cannon balls fall  
And rifle fire fills the air, I hold my  
Breath and close my eyes; One,  
Two, three, four— _do not count the bodies._  Muzzles flashes are the only light,  
Reflecting off the pools of deep red.

A tattered, dirtied flag in red,  
Raised high in the grip of a pale white hand;  
You look an angel with a halo of light,  
And I won’t let you fall  
Alone.  _Vive la Republique! I’m one  
Of them! _ I’ll stand with you—this is my

Place. A hint of a smile on red lips; marble fingers around my  
Trembling, calloused hand. A blinding flash of light;  
Two at one shot. You lean against the wall; and at your feet, I fall.

**Author's Note:**

> ....also known as a Lit class project that my fangirl mind took over. Feedback appreciated, as always!


End file.
